Never a Dull Moment, Including Italia . . .

Buon Sera . . . Ciao . . . Prego . . . Ciao!

I have used these interchangeable greeting/parting/thank you expressions of Italy heavily during the past week! I hope all of you are well and happy! As always, thanks for the emails . . . the link to home and reality is much valued!

When I last wrote, I had left Barcelona (reluctantly) for Cinque Terre, Italy, an all night/all day trip. First was a 3 hour train from Barcelona to the border of France and Spain, then a two hour layover in a town that consisted of . . . the train station. I huddled with a group that included an Australian, a Spaniard, a French girl turned Spaniard, a Kansas City native and a Santa Fe resident (as well as a few bottles of wine), while we waited for our train. I had an interesting discussion with the French bartender and one of her customers regarding the respective merits of two different French wines that were available (both from 1998 and the same region of France). As a Frenchman and longtime wine drinker, the customer concluded that the one with .5% more alcohol was the better one . . . who was I to challenge him? (I am not sure I have mentioned this, but in stark contrast with the United States, a glass of wine here typically costs $1 to $2 and you can get a litre bottle of good wine for about $6). Once we boarded the train, we discovered I was the lucky one with an entire compartment to myself (I had finally invoked my first class Eurail Pass status to get the compartment that comes free with the pass . . . one of the benefits of being 30 and no longer qualifying for the youth pass!). Accordingly, I hosted my first wine tasting party on the road and the conductor even approved our event.

Many hours later I arrived in the Cinque Terre, a group of five fishing villages along the northwest coast of Italy (on the Mediterranean). I hopped off the train at the first village, left my pack at the train station, picked up a picnic lunch (Neapolitan pizza and a small bottle of Cinque Terre wine) and made my way to the beach, which consisted of rocks and a harbor. The view was amazing (and you can see it in the attached photo)! I read and soaked up the sun for a while, then set out for the next town and my youth hostel. Of course, the hostel was closed, but luckily there was a pension just across the square which was lovely . . . the manager, an architect, designed it. As you know, I revel in the excellent accomodations I rarely experience, and this was wonderful . . . two words: HUGE BATHTUB. Dinner that night was at Trattoria Billy, where the customers were me and a group of 8 Italian men . . . my first introduction on this trip to that particular species. Billy serves a mean pesto and pasta; the Cinque Terre is the birthplace of pesto.

I spent the next day exploring the various fishing villages, each of which were beautiful and unique. I tried to hike from my village to the next one, but the trail was labeled as "very dangerous" even though the iron gate to it was wide open. Opting to take their word for it, rather than their actions, I took the "high road" detour. Next thing I knew, I was on top of a terrace used for grape growing that was VERY high up, not so good for someone with a paralyzing fear of heights! I was so relieved to find steps that would get me back to the village that I barely noticed when I passed a private chicken coop, a patio and finally an entrance gate to a home, pausing only to frantically look up the Italian words for "I am very lost, I am sorry" in my phrase book in case I was confronted with whatever the Italian version may be of the Texas shotgun. The only repercussion I suffered was an old woman glaring down at me from her window as I emerged from the gate. Ducking that town, I hopped a train and hiked from the fourth village to the fifth . . . it was a 2 hour hike that took me to amazing heights along the ocean (so high I could no longer hear the surf), over streams, across 8 inch wide trails, and up and down very steep stairs. Most of the time I was alone . . . I only met 3 hikers and one native during the entire hike.

When I finally reached the village of Monterroso al Mare, I found a bacci game in progress next to the beach. This game (kind of like bowling, with only small bronze balls and no pins) is played mainly in France and Italy, I believe, is much in favor with older men, and draws quite a crowd! I hung out with the group watching the game for the rest of the afternoon and met a sea captain (Angelo) who spoke perfect English from his 30 years of travels that included the States and Canada and now works for Esso, an Exxon company. That night, I checked out the Manarola nightlife with a German guy who was staying at my pension . . . we found that nightlife is not a concept well-established in the area but whiled away the time in a bar watching Italian TV shows with the owner. We had our share of excitement earlier in the evening, however, when an American girl failed to heed manager Gabriele s warning not to touch the middle switch of the light switches and caused a power outage in the entire pension that took an hour to correct.

I left early the next morning for Siena, Italy, which is outside Florence. On the way to Siena, I met Lorenzo, a longtime pilot in the Italian military who proudly informed me that he has taught himself all the English he knows. He was really sweet and we talked about how badly he wants to see the United States, but that his wife is physically unable to make the flight and he does not want to go without her. We also discussed our dogs and he admired my pictures of Kip. It makes me laugh to think about these Italian sea captains and pilots knowing about Kip . . . I knew he was destined for world fame!

After leaving Lorenzo, I reached Siena, a beautiful old town where cars are practically banned in the center of the city. I checked out the contemporary art museum and two other museums, the Campo (a town square where people gather to sun themselves), four churches (and yet another mass), the gelatto, Grotto Nero (a medieval-style restaurant), various shops and a classical music concert. The concert was amazing . . . it was held in a classic theatre that had three levels of white theatre boxes trimmed in gold (it looked like a classy version of the Hollywood squares game because of the way the audience members kept looking around at each other). This town and the pension where I stayed are among my favorites so far on the trip. The pension was supposed to have a myna bird on the terrace that says "ciao" when you come and go, but Alessandro, the owner s son, informed me that the myna recently flew the coop. One day, I had lunch at a great place where I was the only customer (it was late in the afternoon) and the two sons, home to have lunch with their parents, ate with them at the next table. (This is apparently a tradition in Italy). I laughed when the mother yelled at the younger son (who was a few years younger than me) to stop watching the Simpsons (dubbed in Italian) and get to the table. Some scenarios are universal.

Reluctantly tearing myself away from Siena, I headed south for Sorrento, Italy, to see the Amalfi Coast. I figured out two things: (1) the Naples train station workers need humanity training; and (2) most others I met in Southern Italy were really kind. I had heard horror stories about men from Southern Italy and, thus, was incredibly cautious, but I met some folks who were just saints about making sure I reached my destination safely. My first day in Sorrento, I explored the town (perched high above the ocean) and had a delightful dinner where Pascal and David were my waiters. David is attending a high school for those who wish to make a career of restaurant work and is doing some kind of apprenticeship at the restaurant. He and Pascal were so fun and always stopped by to keep me company when they were not busy.

The next day, I visited Pompeii, a town buried by lava when Mt. Vesuvius erupted in 62 A.D. and that was forgotten until the archaeologists began excavating it in this century. We even were treated to a small version of the fear the natives must have felt when the volcano started to erupt when a terrible, violent rain storm with sleet and hail broke out just as we were about to enter the ruins. After waiting out the storm, we were treated to nice enough weather to make the visit worthwhile. I cannot believe how many frescoes, columns and statues were found intact after all those years buried in lava rocks! They also have plaster casts of the residents who were buried in the rubble that show the terror and desperation of the villagers. The tour was incredible and the many dogs who live in the ruins helped fill in for my dog Kip (temporarily)!

Earlier that day, at breakfast, I met an American woman from Washington, D.C. In classic small world fashion, it turns out that she is an FDA attorney and went to law school at SMU (in Dallas for you non-Texans). We met for dinner that night and had a great time at Ristoranti Choreale. Afterward, I returned to the Merry Monk Pub, which I had discovered the night before, to use the computer and chat with a Brit-turned-Sorrento resident I met the night before. I also saw the Amalfi coast . . . the road from Sorrento to Amalfi runs above the ocean and includes at least 900 curves in the one-hour drive that is the most beautiful stretch of road I have ever seen.

I set out the next day for Venice, via Naples, where I experienced the first truly dark shadow on my trip. The trip into Naples was strange because, due to a wreck near the train station (not involving our train), we had to get off the train a few towns away and take a bus to the Naples station. I had been warned about the dangerous atmosphere in Naples and was trying to be ultra careful, watching the area around me, being cautious of strangers and keeping my belongings close by. When I went to the window to make my train reservation to Vienna, however, a thief stole my small backpack right from between my feet in the 3 seconds it took the window attendant to tell me to go to a different window. I was stunned because the bag included, among other things, my camera and all its accessories, the 2 journals I was keeping, all the names and addresses of the people I have met over here and those I am supposed to meet later in the trip. I knew I could replace the camera (and have already done so . . . it is covered by insurance), but the other items are definitely a loss I feel deeply. Anyway, I have vowed not to let this spoil my remaining time here and now (2 days later) am feeling much better than I did at the time. On the way to Venice, I met a nice older couple on the train and that also cheered me up. The lady, when she learned I was traveling alone, gave me a big thumbs up, even though we could only communicate through her husband, who knew a little French.

Venice, where I am now, is an incredible city! I love that there are no cars on the island . . . they use boats for everything, including the ambulance, firemen, vegetable sellers, UPS, water taxis, mail delivery, etc. I shopped like a maniac yesterday to replace the key items (camera and accessories, alarm clock, lipstick, journal and notebook, backup batteries, pens) that were in my backpack. Although I wish I had not had to spend my day that way, it was not so bad because I actually felt more like a native shopping for everyday, non-souvenir, items than I do on my typical day of museum visits and other sightseeing. I attended a classical music concert last night in a gorgeous church with an incredible violacello (?) solo by a guy named Davide and then met some really fun Kentucky girls in a pub on the way home. Today I reverted to the tourist role, visiting the huge St. Marks basilica with its gold- and jewel-encrusted altar piece, treasures stolen from Constantinople and spectacular mosaic tile floor. I also saw the greatest museum -- Peggy Guggenheims former home, which she donated to the city along with her private art collection. The art was nice and the house was wonderful, facing right onto the Grand Canal at one of its most beautiful points.

I should end this voluminous letter now, if any of you are still with me! Please forgive if it is entirely too detailed, but I am probably going to rely more heavily on my computer updates than on a handwritten journal for the rest of the trip. Just skim it and read the highlights, if you like! I leave for Vienna in two days and plan, in the meantime, to visit Verona one day and see more of Venice on the other. Stay tuned for the Vienna/Istanbul update next!

Ciao!

Lisa

The Rain in Spain Falls Gently on the Train . . .

Buon Giorno, All!

This is going to be a quick and dirty update for my time in Spain! Let's just say its length will correspond proportionately to my Spanish speaking abilities!

So, when I left you last I had just arrived in Madrid. My train bunkmates on the way to Madrid included two Aussies, two Argentinians and one older man who we think was Spanish. He traveled with a large box that took up nearly our whole compartment, a dolly to transport the box and another dolly he had not yet unwrapped. He woke us all more than an hour before our train arrived in Madrid by clapping happily and singing a song of which the chorus was "Santa Maria." No one in the compartment had heard this song before. We suspect, however, that it was used to rouse his children each day, which explains his solo state of travel when we made his acquaintance. Seriously, though, he seemed very nice and was actually quiet until he displayed his horrifying tendencies toward morning cheerfulness.

I must admit that Madrid was not my very favorite city I visited (and I feel very lucky not to have been there today when the 2 terrorist bombs went off). On the bright side, I loved two of the big museums there, explored a bullfighter bar with my new Aussie friends, enjoyed playing photographer around the huge Parc Retiro, caught up on some shopping and had a FANTASTIC meal at Botin . . . thanks for the restaurant recommendation, David Radman! I loved my meal even though my view throughout it included an entire leg of a cow (in the process of being shaved for inclusion in various dishes) and a man who was right out of The Godfather. Also at Botin, I met some incredibly funny Brits who tried to take me out dancing. They had the classic British dry sense of humor and made me laugh like crazy. One of them manages a pub, the two brothers and their friend live in Gibraltar and run the power company there and the oldest one of the bunch (Ken) was a fighter pilot for Britain in World War II and described for me the ceremony in which he received a medal for his service from the Queen. We were treated to traditional Spanish music by some university students who play at the restaurants for extra money.

The next day, I took a day trip to Toledo, a charming town built on hills with very twisted streets and medieval architecture. In the station, I made friends with Maria, who made sure I found my train. She teaches English to adults and is happy to have retired from teaching children of middle school age. As if to reinforce this point, Maria and I encountered on the train a group of 10 and 11 year olds on their way home from a field trip to one of Madrid's museums. Three of these boys (Angel, Ruben and Alberto) sat across from us. According to Maria, they were very curious about me and conferred amongst themselves regarding how to start a conversation with me. I took the bull by the horns (this being Spain, after all) and asked them in Spanish what their names were. Next thing I knew, a flood of perfect English questions poured forth from the boys and their friends. One little girl shouted out her address and invited me to stay with her and her parents. I would love to see the looks on their faces if an American girl with a huge backpack showed up at their house! I know that my photo of the boys and myself together will be one of my favorites from the trip!

Once I reached Toledo, I saw a gorgeous cathedral and even heard the organ play in it (these organs are as big as a whole room (and then some) in our typical house). I was impressed by the dedication of a couple of Japanese guys who were wheeling around their father in his wheelchair on the steep and bumpy cobblestone streets. The city was very beautiful and even the long walk back to the train station offered wonderful views of the surrounding area and skyline of the city.

I left Madrid after three days and headed to Granada, home of the Alhambra. See this week's picture! It was an amazing set of palaces on a hilltop with an incredible view of the Sierra Nevada. Although the mountains were snow-covered, I was walking around without a jacket most of the time! I also completed a very long hike up to a monastery above the Alhambra. It was a whirlwind day, however, because I was catching a night train to Barcelona.

Barcelona is the city I would plan if I could design my own town . . . ocean, mountains, great architecture, interesting museums, wonderful food and cultural events and a very cool aquarium. I stayed in a youth hostel that served beer from a vending machine . . . not something you often see in the States! The hostel was very convenient, too, right on the Placa Reial and just a stone's throw from Las Ramblas, a length of street that people walk up and down. It's crowded with florists, bird sellers, mimes, newsstands, hard to explain, but very social and fun. I loved Antoni Gaudi's modernist buildings and the Picasso museum best of everything I saw.

Well, I need to run because I am attending a classical music concert this evening. I am in Siena, Italy right now, which will be featured prominently in the next update!

Ciao!

Lisa

Arrival In Madrid, Bit Of Heaven In France

Hola, All!

I am writing from an internet cafe right off the Plaza del Sol in sunny Madrid, Spain. I crossed the border into Spain late last night and arrived here early this morning, along with my new Australian friends Kieran and Richard. I will tell you all about Spain in the next installment of my reports so that I can catch you up on my French adventures today!

When I last wrote you, I had just arrived in Tours. I spent a great few days there -- the sun came out, considerably improving my mood, and Tours is a beautiful city with great museums. One of my favorites was a wax museum that told the history of the Touraine region. The figures were incredibly lifelike and it was very well done, taking you up and down through various levels of a castle until you felt like you might be wandering through a haunted house! I took a bit of a church break in Tours, seeing only one (I usually average 3-4 church inspections per day).

I also took a morning trip out to Chenonceaux (the town) to see Chenonceau (the chateau). The story of my trip there is not for the weak-hearted: it involved a stuck train door, a James Bond-like leap from a barely moving train, and a sore knee. That said, it was worth it to see an amazing castle on such a gorgeous day and my knee is feeling much better now. I was surprised at how cold castles are -- I guess that explains the clothing style of the former inhabitants! But I think I could build a fire and find a way to make do, if forced to do so!

On the train from Tours to Poitiers, I met a woman who taught English in Poitiers for many years. Much to my relief, she was eager to speak in English about her city and experiences, which included escorting school boys on field trips to the United States and Canada. She almost made me feel competent and level-headed as she described incidents including: (1) a passport search through 10,000 bags on a dock before a boy could board his ship; and (2) retrieving a passport from a desk drawer in the home of a host family that had left for vacation, with the help of the police, on the last night of the trip. Her pride in her city turned out to be well-founded -- it is a very beautiful medieval town with windy streets filled with shops, lots of nice Christmas decorations and a truly great museum with exhibits nearly as wonderful as its architecture. Also in Poitiers, I had my best glass of wine yet -- a regional white wine that I absolutely loved and will try to locate in the States!

Having learned my lesson about stressing too much over planning (or, more accurately, failed plans), I rolled the dice with an early morning train from Poitiers to Limoges, thinking I might visit a town called Cahors. When the wait for the Cahors connection turned out to be pretty long, I decided to forego the Limoges train station wait (although I was truly enjoying the brisk 32 degree temperature and raging wind through the station) and hop a train to Rocamadour on the recommendation of the reservations guy.

I have attached a picture of Rocamadour so you can see why I will hug the reservations guy if I ever see him again -- but don´t look at it quite yet! So, I arrived at the Rocamadour train station and started calling around for hotels, although I didn´t expect much because the place is fairly devoid of tourists at this time of year. I was right -- nothing was open, so I reconciled myself to spending only the day there. That´s when Jeanette, the train station attendant (who has worked for the railroad for 20 years) stepped in. Jeanette called her friend Marguerite Larnaudie who runs a "chambre d´hote" in her house -- rooms for rent that include breakfast and an optional dinner cooked by Marguerite. Next thing I knew, Marguerite´s husband, Pierre, picked me up in their car and I found myself in a wonderful home with my very own cozy room with my very own bathroom and shower and a feather bed and feather pillows! (You will never take those things for granted again if you travel like I have traveled this week!) I should mention that on the way home, Pierre stopped the car so I could take a good look at the city of Rocamadour: it literally took my breath away. (You may look at the attached picture now). Add to this picture that it was a rainy day so there was a nice mist hanging over the canyon, making the city appear like something in a dream.

I decided to spend the entire weekend with Marguerite and Pierre because the city was so gorgeous and their house so comfortable. The story of Rocamadour is that hundreds of years ago, the residents found a perfectly preserved body on what is now the Notre Dame chapel there. They decided it was Zaccheus, the tax collector from the Bible, and that it was a miracle that they found him in such a condition. Accordingly, they built an entire religious city in his honor -- at the top of the hill is the castle with its ramparts, you walk down a very steep zigzag incline that has at each "zig" one of the 14 stations of the cross, then you reach the religious city that includes several chapels. Below that is a "grand escalier" religious pilgrims have climbed on their knees that leads down to the village and several shops. Beautiful!

It´s a good thing I got all that exercise climbing up and down the canyon because Marguerite served for dinner (to me and a French couple whose 11 year old son was away on his first ski vacation): red wine, bread and pate with foie gras (made from her own duck), confit de canard (a delicious dish made from her own duck), green beans, cheese (made locally) and crepes with jam made from peaches, oranges, pears (and kiwi, I think). I slept well! On Sunday, I attended a Catholic mass (there is no other kind of church in France, apparently!) that was all in French but still sounded awfully familiar.

I reluctantly left Rocamadour Monday morning for Toulouse, where I would later catch the train for Madrid. Yesterday was therefore spent traveling and running various errands during my layovers in between trains. En route to Madrid, I met lots of new people: a kind old man who offered me a cough drop on the train (he prescribed his own cough medicine, a miniature bottle of wine that he sipped from periodically), two French guys named Pierre and Ian who attend graduate school in Spain and will become Spanish professors this year, two American girls studying in Madrid for the semester and the aforementioned Kieran and Richard.

Well, I must go enjoy the day, which I believe will include a visit to the Prado museum and a stroll through Madrid´s botanical gardens. Tonight the Aussies and I will engage in the traditional Madrid "tapas tour" which involves hopping from place to place to try different Spanish appetizers. Sorry this update is so long, but it was an eventful week! I hope your week is great and thanks again to all for the e-mails!

Adios,
Lisa

Europe 2000 . . . the First Epistle

Bonjour, All!

I am sitting in the hottest copy shop in all of France -- hot meaning warm, not cool. The trip is going well so far! I figured out what I forgot (those who saw me pack will wonder how that could have happened) the moment I stepped off the plane -- gloves, my Neiman's mints and mailing addresses so I could send post cards! Please send me your mailing address, anyone who would like a card!

So far, I have been to the following French cities:

Paris (shopped in the Jewish neighborhood and rode in a sardine-like packed mètro that reminded me about certain cultural differences)

Ambroise (saw a cute group of French schoolkids embarking on a field trip, the chateau where Henry II, who was 4 feet tall, bumped his head on a low -- how low could it have been?!?-- doorway on the way to a tennis match and died, and a chocolate shop in business since 1913 -- for good reason!)

Fontreveaud (visited an enormous Abbey, which happens to house the "remains" of Richard the Lion-Hearted and would make a great setting for a horror movie -- my favorite place so far)

Saumur (more on that later)

and Tours (I am here now and for the next day or two, met my first English-speakers -- an Australian and a girl from Denton, Texas -- in 3 days here and will use it as a base to visit Chateau Chenonceau tomorrow).

My French-speaking capabilities have ranged from decent to embarrassingly awful, but I am already starting to think in French sometimes! As you would expect, some people are incredibly nice and some are not.

To those of you who said you were envious of this trip, this description of my day yesterday should cure you (STOP reading now if you don't want to be disillusioned!): awoke at 7am to catch train, walked to station with 40-pound pack, picking up croissant and Coke breakfast, rode to Tours, I planned to leave pack at the station for the day, learned thanks to the terrorists most stations won't store packs anymore, rode train to Saumure after comical half-French, half-English exchange with Information about location of the proper rail line, in Saumur walked to youth hostel with very heavy pack because line was busy when I called for a reservation, found hostel closed for 2 weeks (Let's Go book apparently missed that one!). Sat down, thought about revenge on Let's Go, contemplated asking garbage truck drivers who came to this isolated place for ride back to station. Help arrived in the form of a sweet (and cute) special edu! cation teacher with a van of his students -- he told me not to be afraid -- I wasn't -- and gave me a lift back to the station. Begged Saumur information desk people to hold pack while I visited the Abbey. In Fontevraud, misread French bus schedule and feared I would not get back to Saumur before info desk closed for night. Found timely bus, retrieved pack, rode train to Tours and splurged on cab ride to youth hostel, where I had made a reservation and they were actually open. Tried to find internet source last night, got bad info from hotel hosts, met kind Chinese/French girl who led me on internet hunt, then to dinner.

I never realized how much work it is to make all plans and do all navigating on your own! Last night, I raised a glass in toast to Amy Krasner (my partner in crime on my last trip here) -- she made that trip infinitely easier! Even this computer keyboard is a challenge -- it must be arranged to accomodate keys commonly used in French. All in all, however, I am very glad to be here and am learning a lot, not just about France.

I should grab some lunch (it's 7 hours earlier here than in Illinois and Texas). Have a great day and talk to you again soon!

Lisa

P.S. Thanks to those who sent e-mails already -- it's nice to read friendly messages from home!